Search for quince chutney - 16 results found

kassler; quince chutney; maple-roasted squash; wild cress

This isn’t a German dinner, in spite of what appear to be some reasonable cues to the contrary.

More like American, or, specifically, more like my kitchen.

I used my imagination to assemble a meal which would enjoy the accompaniment of the quince chutney left over from our Thanksgiving duck feast, and smoked pork (Kassler) seemed like it would do the trick, especially on a weekday, as it requires no real cooking.

We finished off our plates, but ironically it was the little service bowl of chutney once again that remained when we were done. It’s no reflection on the delicious condiment, since we’re not really big on sweets, and sugars were an important element in 3 of the 4 items on the plate.

Maybe I’ll spread some on toast, or Bread Alone’s very Germanic Fruit and Seed Brød, tomorrow morning.

  • a tablespoon or more of rendered duck fat heated inside an large antique tin-lined copper heavy skillet, where it had softened the chopped white section of a medium size scallion from Stokes Farm, the green section reserved for later, 2 smoked loin pork chops from Schaller & Weber added, the pot covered with a universal copper lid, kept above a very low flame (just enough to warm the chops through, as they were already fully-cooked), turning the meat once, then, near the end of the cooking time (I went 8 or 9 minutes this time), the green parts of the onion, which had been set aside earlier, now also sliced, added on top of the chops for a minute or so before they were removed, arranged on the plates, brushed with a little horseradish jelly from Berkshire Berries, sprinkled with both the white and green sections of the scallion

  • a bit of quince chutney made last week, using this recipe, incorporating a red shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, a Rocambole garlic clove from Keith’s Farm, quince  from Troncillito Farms, dried sweet cherries from Manhattan Fruit Exchange in the Chelsea Market, fresh ginger from Lani’s Farm, and a local apple cider vinegar from Race Farm

  • two very small Honey Butternut squash from Lani’s Farm, scrubbed, halved, the seeds removed, placed cut-side up in a baking dish, and a mix of almost 2 tablespoons of maple syrup, an equal amount of fresh water, the zest and juice of less than half of a lemon, part of one fresh habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a pinch each of sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper brushed or poured over the top, then dotted with less than 2 tablespoons of butter, placed in a 375º oven and baked for 15 or 20 minutes, the squash flipped over and continued cooking, basting halfway through, until caramelized and tender, or 20-25 more minutes (serving as edible sauce boats really)

venison, brandy sauce; quince chutney; parsnips; collards


I could easily get used to this.


Venison has always been one of my favorite entrées, but I’m becoming more and more comfortable with preparing it at home, and I’m really enjoying the process of selecting it from some of my favorite butchers.

This time I picked a fresh venison ‘shortloin’ from Frank (the game specialist brother) at Ottomanelli’s in the West Village.

We had expected to have guests, although we hadn’t starting asking friends until after they had already made commitments, as it turned out. We had both been under the weather for weeks, and arranging a dinner party didn’t get on the to-do list until later.

The piece, the very tenderest loin cut of red deer (cervus elaphus), that I had brought home was larger than we wanted for just ourselves (it’s a very rich meat), so I cut one section away after I had unwrapped the package and carefully stowed it in the freezer for another day.

The recipe I used is for the venison is by Brendan Walsh; it’s one from an article I had cut from the Daily News 30 years ago, and I still have the yellowing newsprint in my ‘game’ file. Walsh was the young chef at Arizona 206 at the time.

The venison was the only major part of this meal not sourced locally (American game is not allowed to be sold anywhere in the country), and many of the ‘minor’ elements – including the fantastic lemon[!] – were also from the New York City area.

I included some of the compote or chutney I had prepared for our Thanksgiving dinner, and which we have enjoyed again since; it was as luscious as ever.



The tender parsnips were cooked mostly along the lines of a recipe, new to me, which I found on this site.



The sweet collards are old friends of ours.


  • two 7-ounce, one-inch thick medallions cut from a fresh, vacuum-packaged 22-ounce New Zealand venison ‘shortloin’ from D’artagnan, via Ottomanelli’s, dried rubbed with olive oil and a very generous coasting of freshly-cracked black peppercorns, set aside for more than an hour, after which it was placed over moderately high heat in 1-2 tablespoons of a combination of butter and olive oil inside an oval 11-inch enameled cast iron pan, cooked barely medium rare, which meant about 2 minutes on one side, or until juices had begun accumulating on the top, turned and cooked for another 2 minutes, transferred to warm plates, the bottom of the pan scraped with a wooden spatula to collect the juices, a quarter cup of brandy (Courvoisier V.O. this time) added to the pan and cooked over high heat until reduced to about 2 tablespoons before the sauce was poured over the meat, which was then garnished with chopped parsley from Alex’s Tomato Farm at Chelsea’s Down to Earth Farmers Market (it was almost certainly the last of this sweet herb I will see from local farmers)
  • quince chutney, made following this recipe, using a shallot from Keith’s Farm, a garlic clove from Stokes Farm, quince from Red Jacket Orchards, dried sweet cherries (don’t know whether they were local) from Whole Foods, fresh ginger from Lani’s Farm, apple cider from Locust Grove Fruit Farm (the recipe asked for apple cider vinegar, and I do have a bottle of the local stuff, from Race Farm, but I misread the instruction and the dish still turned out more than fine)
  • half to 3 quarters of a pound of young parsnips from Tamarack Hollow Farm, scrubbed, peeled, cut, roughly into 3 to 4 inch lengths and half inch widths, tossed and stirred inside a medium copper pot in which 4 tablespoons of butter had been melted, the roots sprinkled with salt and pepper, removed with a slotted wooden spoon and the pot put aside on the stove, arranged on a large, well-seasoned Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted in a 375º oven for about 45 minutes, after which half a tablespoon of juice and a teaspoon of zest from a sweet local lemon, from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and a few pinches of freshly-grated nutmeg were added to the pot of melted butter reserved earlier, the parsnips added and tossed with the butter over medium heat for a minute or two, and the seasoning corrected, if necessary
  • some sweet late-season loose collard greens from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, cut as a very rough chiffonade, braised in a heavy pot in which one large clove of quartered garlic from Stokes Farm had been allowed to sweat with some olive oil, the dish finished with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil
  • the wine was a California (Napa) red, Ken Deis Cabernet Sauvignon Napa Valley Reserve 2014, from Naked Wines

We had begun the meal with sips of champagne in the parlor, 2 steps below the dining gallery (it sounds fancy, especially since there were only the two of us, but it’s actually something we rarely indulge ourselves with).

The first course was one of my favorites, for its pleasures and for its ease of preparation.  Although this time I had completely forgotten to include the little bit of of balsamic vinegar I had even set out beforehand, it was still delicious.


  • inside a large enameled cast iron pot, one chopped garlic clove from Stokes Farm, sautéed in a tablespoon of olive oil only until golden, followed by less than 2 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar, 6 crushed juniper berries, and roughly half of a pound of a ‘conehead’ cabbage (also known as ‘caraflex’ or ‘arrowhead’ cabbage) from Norwich Meadows Farm, very finely sliced after the triangular core had been removed and set aside, the cabbage seasoned with salt and pepper, the heat raised, the mix fried for about one minute, stirring, then arranged in 2 shallow bowls (I’ve used the basic recipe a number of times as an appetizer when we have guests; it’s from ‘Healthy Italian Cooking‘, by Emanuella Stucchi, a slim ‘stealth vegetarian’ volume I had been using for years before I realized there was absolutely no meat or fish in any of the recipes it described
  • slices from a loaf of Eric Kayser’s ‘Pain aux Céréales’
  • the wine was a German (Mosel) white, Selbach Incline Dry Riesling Mosel 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault

We didn’t make it to a cheese course.


venison; quince chutney; camote chipotle gratin; lacinato


with no hint of the richness of the entrée, a light cabbage sauté


(‘butter’ still melting) the empty space in the middle? reserved for quince chutney


..and here it is (I had taken the second picture before serving the chutney)


tiny cheese, big toast, but the toast was very thin


we decided to call pecan pie a Venezuelan desert (inside joke)


Thanksgiving with venison.

The bad part: no leftovers; the good part: no leftovers.

I had no interest in serving a turkey, and there were to be only 4 people at the table this year. Besides, turkey is hard, and it would have meant I couldn’t oversleep on one of my favorite holidays.

We had venison; it was the best venison I have ever cooked.

We both love game, and Ottomanelli’s had some thick New Zealand venison chops when I visited the shop last week. These rich cuts are at least as simple to prepare as a steak, and everybody thinks they can cook a steak, and they’re right. My now-favorite approach for venison chops is to season them well, give them a quick searing on each side, then about 5 minutes in the oven, no turning required, followed by a few minutes rest on warm plates before serving.

The simplest of recipes does invite a little tweaking however. It could be as simple as deglazing the pan with spirits or putting together a composed butter to spread on the top of the cooked meat. I went for the latter this time, a blue cheese-fennel butter.

The long, informal little dinner party began with a toast.

The sitting part part began with cabbage, almost a salad, but warm and savory.


love cutting cabbage; think it’s about the texture and the simple movement


  • inside a large enameled cast iron pot, one chopped garlic clove from Stokes Farm, sautéed in a tablespoon of olive oil only until golden, followed by less than 2 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar, 6 crushed juniper berries, and roughly half of a pound of a ‘conehead’ cabbage (also known as ‘caraflex’ or ‘arrowhead’ cabbage) from Norwich Meadows Farm, very finely sliced, after the triangular core had been removed, sliced thinly and set aside, the cabbage seasoned with salt and pepper, the heat raised, the mix fried for about one minute, stirring, then arranged on plates, the reserved core triangles arranged on top (I’ve used the basic recipe a number of times as an appetizer when we have guests, a favorite with cook and guests for its convenience and its deliciousness, respectively; it’s from ‘Healthy Italian Cooking‘, by Emanuella Stucchi, a small ‘stealth’ vegetarian tome I had been using it for years before I realized there was no meat or fish in any of the recipes
  • slices of a whole wheat sourdough miche from Bread Alone, in the Greenmarket
  • the wine was an Oregon (Rogue Valley) white, Foris Vineyards Rogue Valley Gewürztraminer Oregon 2014

The entrée included the venison chops finished with a gorgonzola-fennel seed butter, a quince and cherry chutney, a spicy-smoky sweet potato gratin, and a sweet ’embossed’ leafy vegetable.

  • four thick loin chops (6- 7 ounces each), New Zealand farmed venison, via O. Ottomanelli & Sons, on Bleecker Street, brought to room temperature, generously seasoned on both sides, seared in a little olive oil and butter inside an enameled cast iron pan, placed in a 425º oven for about 5 or 6 minutes, removed, and allowed to rest, a tablespoon or so of a composed butter placed on top while they were still warm (the butter was some softened ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘ flavored with a small amount of toasted and crushed dried fennel seed; a few drops of Worcestershire sauce; salt; pepper; a couple ounces of Gorgonzola Casarrigoni from Whole Foods; and a sprinkling of crushed dried, very dark, heatless habanada peppers, rolled into a ‘log’ one inch in diameter, and refrigerated until needed)
  • quince chutney, made following this recipe, using a shallot from Keith’s Farm, a garlic clove from Stokes Farm, quince from Red Jacket Orchards, dried sweet cherries from Whole Foods, fresh ginger from Lani’s Farm, apple cider from Locust Grove Fruit Farm (the recipe asked for apple cider vinegar, and I do have a bottle of the local stuff, from Race Farm, but I misread the instruction and the dish still turned out more than fine)
  • two pounds of Japanese sweet potatoes from Lani’s Farm, sliced thinly, seasoned with salt and pepper, arranged in 4 layers separated by portions of 2 cups of heavy cream that had been mixed in a blender with one chipotle pepper and a small amount of adobo sauce (the layers beginning with the potatoes), inside a 8″x12″ glazed ceramic casserole dish, baked inside a 350º oven for about one hour, or until the cream had been absorbed and the potatoes browned, finished on the plates with a scattering of micro radish from Windfall Farms (the gratin recipe, one I’ve used many times, is from ‘Bobby Flay’s Bold American Food‘, where, minus the micro radish, it appears as ‘Sweet Potato Gratin with Smoked Chiles’)
  • about half of a pound of small tender leaves of cavolo nero (also known as lacinata, black kale, or Tuscan kale) from Tamarack Hollow Farm, briefly wilted with olive oil and 4 halved garlic cloves from Stokes Farm, the garlic first heated in the oil until they became pungent
  • the wines were a California (Calaveras) red, F. Stephen Millier Black Label Red Angel Red Blend Calaveras County 2014 from Naked Wines; and an Italian (Sicily) red, Tenuta delle Terre Nere Etna Rosso 2014

There was a cheese course.

  • four different cheeses, ‘Bigelow’ goat cheese from Ardith Mae; Consider Bardwell’s ‘Reconsider’, which is a one-time event: a cow cheese finished in the ‘Manchester’ goat cheese cave; Consider Bardwell’s ‘Dorset’ cow cheese; and an untitled Consider Bardwell blue goat cheese
  • thin toasts of a fantastic ‘8 Grain 3 Seed’ bread from Rock Hill Bakery, Gansevoort, NY (the ingredients are: ‘unbleached, unbromated wheat flour, water, organically grown whole wheat flour, honey, corn grits, millet, oats, cracked barley, cracked rye, cracked wheat, flax seeds, brown rice flour, sunflower seeds, buckwheat flour, pops seeds, salt’), made on my ‘Camp-A-Toaster’ [see this post]

There was a sweet (well, another sweet).

  • a magnificent pecan pie, from Le Pain Quotidien, the gift of our guests, beside a scoop of Ciao Bella ‘Madagascar Vanilla’ gelato frm Whole Foods, served on glass chargers requisitioned for functional service the first time ever.

We topped the evening with neat sips of a very good Venezuelan rum, Roble Viejo Ron Extra Añejo, also from our guests.

  • the music was entirely from the Americas [Renaldo Hahn was born in Venezuela], drawn from a Spotify playlist assembled by Barry for the afternoon and evening (we enjoyed slow food dinner and conversation for 8 hours)

venison loin, quince relish, celeriac frite, red napa cabbage

It was a very special dinner. It was Christmas, but it wasn’t a Christmas dinner.

Also, this was not a reindeer.

The special part was that it was the feast of winter, which goes by many names all over the world, but which is always observed at around the time of the winter solstice.

The featured guest was deer, red deer, and it came, not from anywhere near a real or fantasy north pole, but from New Zealand, arguably today the source of the highest-quality farmed venison This is at least partly attributable to a wholly temperate climate that allows deer to be raised on excellent pastures all year round (I’ve always thought of New Zealand as Scotland without the interesting complications, but definitely a welcoming environment for game, so long as you weren’t of the persuasion of the hunted).

Deer are not native to New Zealand; for that we have to thank nineteenth-century New Zealand settlers.  In the 1850’s and 1860’s they imported eight different species, but mostly Red deer, releasing them into the wild for sport hunting. The animals thrived in the mild climate and the predator-free environment, and their numbers were soon causing severe damage to the native forests, so in the 1930s professional hunters were called in to reduce the population.

Decades later, or some fifty years ago, entrepreneurs began sharing the culled animals with Europe, where there had always been a big market for venison, and soon after that, with demand outpacing the supply, the first farms were established, many of them with huge open pastures, fenced – ironically, because of the history – from hunters.

The meat began to be marketed in the U.S. in 1975, and I think I’ve been cooking it almost since that time.

The excellent recipe I followed on December 25th comes from a feast held at the painter Marc Séguin’s farm in Hemmingford, Quebec, and described in the New York Times in 2008., but I did not include the carrots or the onions, since I had other plans for a vegetables accompaniment.

It may have been the best venison I have ever had.

Don’t be afraid of the generous maple syrup element, as once it’s combined with the other ingredients, and fully cooked, the sauce had gone way beyond its origins and become just a rich complex game sauce.

  • a 35-ounce loin roast of New Zealand red deer (cervus elaphus) purchased from Frank, the brother who specializes in game at O. Ottomanelli’s & Sons on Bleecker Street in the Village, seasoned generously with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, rubbed with a little olive oil and allowed to rest at room temperature while the oven was lit, its thermostat set for 400º, and a braising liquid prepared by combining in a medium saucepan 3/4 cup of David Marvin Vermont Family Heirloom Organic Maple Syrup, ‘Medium Amber Grade A’ (I donlt know where I purchased it or how long I’ve had it, but just opened it that day, and it’s wonderful), one cup of good chicken stock (I used low-sodium Better Than Bouillon chicken base, 5 sprigs of thyme (Uncle Vinny’s) from the West Side Market on 23rd Street, one bay leaf (also Uncle Vinny’s), 5 peppercorns, 1 large peeled clove of Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic, gently boiling the mix until it had reduced by half, a medium enameled cast iron roasting pan set over medium-high heat with one tablespoon of butter and, when hot, the small roast browned on all sides and transferred to a plate while the maple-stock reduction was transferred into that pan, the brown bits on the bottom of the pan scraped with a wooden spoon and the venison returned to the pan, meat-side up, its contents seasoned with salt, placed inside the oven and cooked for 10 minutes, basting with the liquid twice, the meat flipped and the roasting continued, continuing to baste, for maybe 10 to 20 minutes more, or until the roast was rare to medium rare, (otherwise, when an instant thermometer inserted in the center registered 130 degrees), and when done, transferred to a cutting board and allowed to rest for 10 minutes, while the sauce was strained into a saucepan and simmered until reduced to the desired thickness, the seasoning corrected with salt and pepper, and the venison separated into four sections by cutting through the chine and served with the sauce (there were leftovers)

quince chutney [not yet on the plate when it was photographed], mostly using this recipe, but substituting a mix of raisins for dried cherries, and candied slices of ginger for fresh ginger

  • one 16-ounce celery root (or celeriac) from from Migliorelli Farm, scrubbed, peeled, and cut into the size and shape of potato frites, each about 1/4″ in cross section, tossed inside a bowl with olive oil, a half teaspoon of Safinter Pimenton de la Vera smoked picante paprika, sea salt, and a little freshly-ground black pepper, spread onto a large seasoned Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, and roasted at 425º until brown and cooked through, or for about 30 to 35 minutes, removed to the plates, and sprinkled with chopped fresh thyme, again, from West Side Market
  • one small Napa cabbage (probably Red Dragon), from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, quartered, cored, sliced into one to one-half-inch ribbons, sautéed in a scant tablespoon of olive oil inside a medium heavy, tin-lined copper pot, stirring occasionally, until wilted but still crunchy, a little more than a teaspoon of toasted cumin seed mixed in, finished with half a teaspoon of Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar, the mix stirred and seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, cooked another couple of minutes
  • the wine was a superb French (Northern Rhone) red, Benoit Roseau, Saint-Joseph Patagone, 2017  , from Flatiron Wines
  • the music was the 2019 WKCR-FM  Bachfestival, streaming

saddle of hare, game sauce, quince; roast squash; sprouts

The richest, gamiest game imaginable.

Wild hare, two days in a row! Well it was already there, and for several reasons it seemed neither advisable nor possible to push back cooking our second ration of this noble meat to another day.

We found 2 more pieces of shot, for a total of 4 between us.

  • a 12 ounce/325g saddle from the Scottish Mountain hare purchased from Ottomanelli’s in the West Village, on Bleecker Street just east of 7th Avenue, that we had enjoyed the night before (the back had been cut into 4 sections and already marinated, along with the other pieces cooked on Sunday, after which it was tightly wrapped and placed overnight in the refrigerator), brought to room temperature and placed, backbone side upwards, inside an enameled cast iron roasting pan just the right size for the 4 pieces, barded with 2 long rashers of streaky bacon from Millport Dairy Farm that had been parboiled for 2 minutes then rinsed in cold water, to remove some of the strong smokey flavor of the pork, each strip then cut into 4 sections in order to be more easily arranged lengthwise on top of the hare, fastened with toothpicks, the meat placed inside a pre-heated 425°F oven to sizzle for only 7 or 8 minutes, the temperature then turned down to 325°F, and the saddle cooked for only another 10  minutes or so, the meat removed and kept warm inside a small oven pan while the pan on which it had cooked was deglazed with a tablespoon of Courvoisier V.S. cognac, followed by about 8 ounces of a very rich stock (a mix of mostly a good low-sodium chicken stock with a wonderful full-flavored wine and vegetable ham stock created with this meal, and occasionally reheated to refresh it), boiled to reduce it by half, the heat turned down, the liquid allowed to cool slightly and then only about 2 ounces of heavy cream from our local Ronnybrook Farm Dairy added and stirred continuously over a flame until the sauce had thickened, the hare then arranged on warm plates on the top of the bacon slices and the sauce ladled over both, the plates finished with chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge [cook’s note: I think I would have been off adding the stock to the pan (but not over the meat itself) at the time the oven temperature was turned down, but in perhaps a smaller amount: this might have allowed the hare to cook more evenly, and also to be less well done and more moist, but I suspect all of this would have been more simple to accomplish had the animal just been larger..]
  • a quince conserve from Wilkin & Sons (the quince and fig chutney I had made having been exhausted at dinner the day before)
  • one 5-inch black futsu squash from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, halved vertically, the seeds and pith removed, cut into wedges just over one half-inch thick at the outside end and mixed by hand inside a large bowl with a relatively small amount of olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and pieces of golden crushed dried habanada pepper, arranged on a large, unglazed, well-seasoned ceramic pan and roasted in the 425º oven on one side for 15 minutes, turned onto the other side and allowed to roast for 10 more minutes, removed from the oven and transferred to a large heavy copper pot in which 3 crushed cloves of Krasnodar red garlic from Quarton Farm and half a dozen large sage leaves from Whole Foods Market Chelsea had been gently heated  in a bit of olive oil, then gently mixed in with a wooden spatula
  • more small Migliorelli Farm Brussels sprouts, from the large number I had purchased more than a week earlier, washed, trimmed and dried, tossed inside a bowl with a little olive oil, salt, and black pepper, roasted inside a medium-size Pampered Chef pan until the sprouts were partly brown and crisp on the outside
  • the wine was a brilliant French (Bandol/Provence) red, Domaine Castell Reynoard Bandol 2013, from Copake Wine Works (and a great pairing)
  • the music was a wonderful 1964 recording of Mozart’s ‘Die Zauberflöte’, Karl Böhm directing the Berlin Philharmonic and the RIAS Chamber Choir, with Evelyn Lear, Roberta Peters,  Lisa Otto, Fritz Wunderlich, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, Franz Crass, Hans Hotter, Hildegard Hillebrecht, Cvetka Ahlin, Sieglinde Wagner, and Friedrich Lenz, among others